This rainy November morning proved no exception. As she replaced the clock on the windowsill, she could feel her heart thumping. It was the squirt of adrenaline that made the daily episode so effective. Even if she could have gone back to bed, she’d never have gotten back to sleep. And it was the same for Tom, her one-and-a-half-year-old half-wild tawny tabby who, at the sound of the alarm, had fled into the depths of her closet.
Resigned to the start of another day, Laurie stood up, wiggled her toes into her sheepskin slippers, and turned on the TV to the local morning news.
Her apartment was a small, one-bedroom affair on Nineteenth Street between First and Second avenues in a six-story tenement. Her rooms were on the fifth floor in the rear. Her two windows faced out onto a warren of overgrown backyards.
In her tiny kitchen she turned on her coffee machine. The night before, she’d prepared it with a packet of coffee and the right amount of water. With the coffee started she padded into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.
“Ugh!” she said as she turned her face from side to side, viewing the damage of another night with not enough sleep. Her eyes were puffy and red. Laurie was not a morning person. She was a confirmed night owl and frequently read until all hours. She loved to read, whether the book was a ponderous pathology text or a popular bestseller. When it came to fiction, her interests were catholic. Her shelves were crammed with everything from thrillers to romantic sagas, to history, general science, and even psychology. The night before it had been a murder mystery, and she’d read until she’d finished the book. When she’d turned out the light, she’d not had the courage to look at the time. As usual, in the morning she vowed never to stay up so late again.
In the shower Laurie’s mind began to clear enough to start going over the problems that she would have to address that day. She was currently in her fifth month as an associate medical examiner at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner for the City of New York. The preceding weekend, Laurie had been on call, which meant that she worked both Saturday and Sunday. She’d performed six autopsies: three one day and three the next. A number of these cases required additional follow-up before they could be signed out, and she began making a mental list of what she had to do.
Stepping out of the shower, Laurie dried herself briskly. One thing she was thankful about was that today would be a “paper day” for her, meaning that she would not be assigned any additional autopsies. Instead she would have the time to do the necessary paperwork on the autopsies that she’d already done. She was currently waiting for material on about twenty cases from either the lab, the medical examiner investigators, local hospitals or local doctors, or the police. It was this avalanche of paperwork that constantly threatened to overwhelm her.
Back in the kitchen Laurie prepared her coffee. Then, carrying her mug, she retreated to the bathroom to put on makeup and blow-dry her hair. Her hair always took the longest. It was thick and long and of an auburn color with red highlights she liked to burnish with henna once a month. Laurie was proud of her hair. She thought it was her best feature. Her mother was always encouraging her to cut it, but Laurie liked to keep it beyond shoulder length and wear it in a braid or piled on top of her head. As for makeup, Laurie always subscribed to the theory that “less is more.” A bit of eyeliner to line her blue-green eyes, a few strokes with an eyebrow pencil to define her light, reddish blond eyebrows, and a brief application of mascara and she was nearly done. A dab of coral blush and lipstick completed the routine. Satisfied, she took her mug and retreated to the bedroom.
By then, Good Morning America was on. She listened with half an ear as she put on the clothes she had laid out the night before. Forensic Pathology was still largely a man’s world, but that only made Laurie want to emphasize her femininity with her dress. She slipped into a green skirt and matching turtleneck. Eyeing herself in the mirror, she was pleased. She’d not worn this particular outfit before. Somehow it made her look taller than her actual height of five foot five, and even slimmer than her hundred and fifteen pounds.